Coda
by GeneralIrritation
Summary: Six years after LIFE IS STRANGE. One year after GUN, WITH OCCASIONAL HELLA. Three months after LEGEND HAS IT. A look into the future for Max Caulfield and Chloe Price is also a look into the past.
1. Watching the Detectives

**Chapter 1: Watching the Detectives**

* * *

 _ **AUTHOR'S NOTE:** What you are about to read is the third story in a set of three, meaning if you haven't read the first two, you're gonna be lost. The first story (_Gun, With Occasional Hella _) and the second (_ Legend Has It _) are right there when you click on my name._ Coda _will still be here when you get back._

 _Enjoy the show..._

* * *

 _November 9, 2019_

A private investigator named Chloe Price was sitting in a metal folding chair in a side room of a non-denominational church in Seattle, Washington. As she scratched under the collar of her tuxedo shirt, she looked at the other two occupants with which she shared the small (and curiously lemon-smelling) room that, on days not being used for weddings, had been mostly used for storage.

The first of these occupants was a nine year old little boy named Jared Price, her cousin, the son of the brother of her late father William. Chloe's mother Joyce had kept in touch with Chloe's uncle after William's passing, and made sure both of these Price men got invitations to the wedding. Jared, for his part, was looking down at a pillow, upon which rested two gold rings. The little boy sighed as though he'd rehearsed it.

"How you holding up, little man?" Chloe asked.

Jared looked from the pillow to Chloe, his little blond eyebrows almost coming up to meet in the middle, like he'd been done a grievous wrong and had no other recourse with which to retaliate.

"Dad took my Switch," Jared said. "I was playing _Minecraft."_

"The _monster,"_ Chloe said.

Jared nodded at this. "I know, right?"

Chloe looked from Jared to the third occupant of the room.

Also in a tuxedo that matched the two Prices, Ryan Caulfield, father of the other bride Maxine, stood by the doorway.

"How _you_ holding up, little man?" Chloe asked Ryan.

Ryan shrugged and said "My little girl's getting married today."

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Chloe said, "your little girl's _been_ married since August."

Which was true. On August 30 of that year, Chloe Elizabeth Price had married Max Caulfield in an impromptu ceremony on a street corner with an audience of no one, presided over by Seth Newman, who was the Mayor of Arcadia Bay, Oregon. This, of course, was one day before Chloe had used the magic time travel ability she'd had at the time to fulfill an ancient prophecy and unravel a massive storm that was threatening to destroy the town.

Chloe's life had, until recently, been a very odd one.

"What prompted you to do that, by the way?" Ryan asked. "Getting married on a street corner?"

Chloe took in a breath, about to say that it was a spur of the moment thing, but instead opted for the truth, which was:

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Ryan shrugged. He looked at Jared, as though the little boy was a foreign spy itching to pounce on the valuable intelligence he was about to share with Chloe, before he internally waved it off and walked up to her.

"Um… I don't know how this works, two women marrying each other."

"Well," Chloe said, "when two women love each other very much…"

"I know how _that_ works, he said. "I just… The two of you are going all out today. Traditional-like, and…"

"And?"

"And a lady should be walked down the aisle by her father," Ryan said.

Chloe nodded. There had only even been two central father figures in her life. The first was her own father William, who had died in a car crash when Chloe was just fourteen. The second had been the man her mother had married some years after, David Madsen, who had been an asshole. Joyce and David divorced in 2016 after he and the dipshit militia buddies he had fallen in with had been arrested for occupying an Oregon bird sanctuary in an ill-advised and totally ineffective protest against the federal government. David had even been forced to email Joyce and Chloe pleading for care packages of food because the morons had forgotten to bring any with them.

"So," Ryan continued, "being that Vanessa would be more than happy to walk Max… If you'll have me, I'd like to walk you."

Chloe blinked a couple of times, and said the first thing that came to her mind.

"This was Max's idea, wasn't it?"

Ryan, instead of acting offended as Chloe would have predicted, just smiled.

"Can't slip anything past you, can I?"

"I'm a detective."

"You just really enjoy saying that, don't you?"

"When it's true, yeah, why not?"

"So…"

Chloe leaned back. She had spent most of her life never thinking she'd even get married, let alone get married in a church, or even be walked down the aisle. And now that the day had come, she had gotten used to each idea in rapid succession, so much so that she had almost forgotten to be moved by Max's idea and Ryan's willingness to carry it out.

Almost.

"Thank you," Chloe said. "I'd, um… I'd really appreciate that."

Ryan bent down and put her hand on Chloe's shoulder.

"It's my honest pleasure," he said. "You make my daughter very happy. And to think, when the two of you were little, you pretended to be pirates in my backyard."

"Yeah," Chloe said. "This must be really weird for you."

"You don't know the half of it."

It was it this point that a third gentleman entered the room.

Neither Chloe nor Max cared a whit for sticking to gender roles when assembling their assorted wedding parties. Chloe (who wasn't comfortable in anything that didn't involve pants) would have a Best Whoever, and Max (who wanted to rise to the challenge of rocking a wedding dress) would have a Whoever of Honor. Chloe, for her part, stuck to the traditional gender thing when selecting Arcadia Bay police officer Trevor Cade as her Best Whoever.

Max did not, and it was her Whoever of Honor who had, just now, decided to make an appearance.

Warren Graham put his hands in the pockets of his tuxedo jacket and smiled at Chloe.

"Hey," Chloe said. "Where's Trevor?"

"Out there with Dana and Brandon," Warren said.

"Can, uh… Can I see her?"

Warren shook his head. "It's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding."

"Fun Fact," Chloe said, ""We're already married. Even Funner Fact: I am _also the bride."_

"Well, then, now you know how high the stakes are," Warren said. "Killer bow tie."

Chloe ran her thumb along the bow tie around the collar of her shirt. "Thanks," she said. "I had to look up a video on YouTube to learn how to tie it."

"Why didn't you use a clip-on?"

"Because Max didn't want me to," Chloe said. "Why, did…"

And as though he had read the question she was about to ask him in advance, Warren yanked the black clip-on bow tie off his neck and held it up, grinning like he'd performed a magic trick.

"Victoria would have killed you rather than let you out of your hotel room in a clip-on tie," Chloe said.

"Well, Victoria's not here, now, is she?"

This was true. Warren's wife, Victoria Chase, had borne a massive, almost bloodthirsty grudge against Max Caulfield, to the point that she did not accompany him to the wedding. It had been this way since the two women had met at Blackwell Academy in Arcadia Bay in 2013. This was no doubt exacerbated by Max's actions on October 7 of that year, whereupon she stepped in front of a bullet fired by one Nathan Prescott, saving Chloe's life. Nathan went to an insane asylum for his actions, and said actions linked himself to the actions of Mark Jefferson, who was a rapist, a murderer and, at the time, a photography teacher at Blackwell. Victoria had cared for both of these men before their foul deeds had come to light, and it was Chloe's theory that, even though Victoria knew both of these men were terrible, she could not forgive Max finding that out before she had.

Jefferson was still in prison for what he had done. As for Nathan, he had pulled off the not-inconsiderable feat of dying almost fifty years before he had been born.

At this juncture, it is worth noting a second time that Chloe Price's life was an odd one.

Chloe ran a finger along her bow tie one more time, and stood up.

"She in _sis_ ted I wear a real bow tie," Chloe said, "and I have no idea _why…"_

* * *

 _June 6, 2014_

Max had helped her pick out the suit for tonight.

The pants and the jacket were dark blue. The shoes and the belt were black. The shirt was white, with two buttons undone and a necklace with three bullets as the pendant underneath. No tie.

She looked around her darkened bedroom, sighed, and made her way downstairs.

By the little tack board near the front door, Chloe's mother Joyce was waiting, phone in hand and smile on face.

"My little girl's going to the prom!" she said. "Hold still, let me get a picture."

Chloe had to suppress a groan, but she stood up straight, wiped a lock of blue hair from her cheek, and put on her best facsimile of a smile.

After the picture had been taken, Joyce walked up to Chloe.

"Make sure Max takes a selfie of the two of you and sends it to me," she said. "Max loves her some selfies, so I know she'll take it, and if you say she didn't want one, I'll know you're lying."

"This doesn't weird you out, does it?" Chloe asked. "Me going out with Max?"

Chloe wanted to say _"with another girl,"_ and she got the feeling that, despite what she had said, this is what her mother heard.

"I expected you to get knocked up by some meth-head biker named Travis," Joyce said. "And you come home with little Max _Caulfield?_ I'm supposed to say _no_ to that?"

"Okay," Chloe said. "Are you sure… y'know… _he's_ okay with it?"

Chloe tried to put as much stank on the subject of that sentence as she could. Out of sight, sitting on the living room couch watching Nascar, was David Madsen, the stepdouche himself.

"I don't give a single damn what he thinks," Joyce said, "and neither should you."

A male voice, complete with a Southern accent, made its presence felt from the living room. "I _heard_ that."

Joyce craned her neck toward the living room and yelled _"Good!"_ before turning back to Chloe.

"Have fun, dear."

After her assurances that she would, Chloe got into The Beast, her rickety old pick-up truck, and made her way to Blackwell.

She made her drive with the radio off, letting the flow of these last few months, the inexorable progression of events, wash over her.

Chloe did not know Max was in town when she had stepped in front of Nathan Prescott's bullet for her. In fact, in the five years that separated the day Max had left Arcadia Bay for Seattle in 2008 and the day she had gotten shot in 2013, Max had sent not a single text or a postcard or a letter. She had popped up instantly, when Chloe had needed her the most, to save her life.

Almost as though she had known what was going to happen ahead of time.

But the price that came with her death's reprieve was a steep one. Not only was her former best friend shot, and in a coma, but Nathan's arrest led to the devastating revelation that Rachel Amber, a girl Chloe had had every conceivable feeling for, had been murdered by Nathan after she had been abducted by Mark Jefferson. Rachel had been missing since April, and Chloe had taken it upon herself to lead a one woman crusade to find her. And while logic dictated that the worst must have happened to her, Chloe would only have given up hope with teeth and finger-nail marks scrawled across its surface.

Between the time she had learned of Rachel's death and the day that Max woke up from her coma, Chloe occupied her time in the instances she wasn't on epic crying jags pondering her place in the world. Whatever fates and furies governed over the linear progression of events had both given and taken away in such bounty that Chloe felt herself a plaything in the grip of something large and vastly unknowable, prodding her in different directions at once and peering keenly at her reactions.

This feeling did not go away, as the day of Rachel's funeral just so happened to be the day that Max woke up from her coma. She had been trying to find a meditative state after the wrenching her heart had been through during the funeral, and that state was hopelessly broken by the comatose Max gripping her hand. And the first words Max said to Chloe upon waking up were:

 _"_ _Are you okay?"_

And Max had shown that level of sensitive attentiveness throughout the next couple of months, never taking it personally when Chloe cried, or raged, or wanted to be left alone. But even this was… _off…_ somehow. She remembered that when she told Max all about Rachel, she just kept nodding her head in a way that crept upon the impatient, as though she knew all this stuff already.

And even this had a new wrinkle added to it on a night in December after what turned out to be the final Vortex Club party, when Max, drunk on both Bud Light Lime-a-Rita and hope, kissed Chloe under a streetlight as the snow fell.

After a period of shock (and greasy hangover food from the Two Whales Diner), both Max and Chloe decided to see where this new development would go. And six months later, it had to second base—for both of them—with each itching for the next guy up at the plate to hit a double.

So deep was Chloe in thought that she didn't remember pulling out of her driveway, let alone pulling into a spot in the crowded Blackwell parking lot.

The Prescott dorm was quiet, as Chloe figured it should have been, with the students having already packed to go home at the close of the school year.

Chloe knocked on Max's door, and waited.

What opened the door was a vision in strapless, light gray silk. Max's hair was done in one of the classier ponytails Chloe had seen, with bangs almost coming down to her eyebrows. Max even had makeup on.

 _"_ _Wow,"_ Chloe said. "There's the whole nine, and then there's… _Wow."_

"Thank you," Max said.

"Even the makeup, though."

"Dana helped me with it," Max said. "I couldn't put the eyeliner on without poking myself in the eye."

"Would it be bad form if I thanked her?" Chloe asked.

"No," Max said. "I did. What do you think of the lipstick?"

"I like it."

"It's plum. Red made me look like a clown. It's no-smear."

"What does—"

Max cut her off with a kiss. As deep a kiss as a person could manage without using tongue. Eventually Max pulled away, wiped a finger across Chloe's lip and showed it to her.

"See?" Max asked. "No-smear."

"Impressive," Chloe said, letting her breath out.

Max looked at Chloe's hands. "No corsage?"

The fires of hell burned between Chloe's ears. "I was supposed to bring a corsage?"

Max smiled. "I don't know. I don't know how to do the prom thing."

"Me neither," Chloe said. "I never thought I'd go to one of these."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm antisocial. And angry. And—and… _Gay."_

Chloe looked Max up and down again. "Tonight, in particular."

Max smiled wider, and said "You shush."


	2. Shipbuilding

**Chapter 2: Shipbuilding**

 _November 9, 2019_

This particular church did not have an organ, but it did have a sound system, which was presided over by the DJ they'd be using at the reception. The DJ (whose name was Kyle) had never worked a wedding of two women before, so he opted to play the _Bridal March_ on loop, much to the irritation of all in attendance.

Ryan Caulfield, true to his word, walked Chloe down the aisle. They both stood on either side of Trevor Cade, with Chloe closest to the podium, with the elderly and wizened minister behind it. Warren Graham stood alongside bridesmaids Juliet Watson and Dana Ward, who wore dark green dresses. Dana had her infant son Brandon up to her chest, as both she and husband Trevor were in the retinues of the two brides. Attempts to get little Brandon into a tiny tux that matched all the men in attendance were nixed almost instantly when the boy launched an impressive stream of white vomit on the floor of the store renting said tuxedoes. So when little Brandon Cade grew up to learn that he had been present at the wedding of the famed photographer Max Caulfield, it would also be known that he did so in a set of Batman footie pajamas.

Chloe looked out into the half-filled church to see who wound up making it.

Joyce was there, of course, in the front row and beaming like a madwoman. She'd been pulling her hair out in the days leading up to the wedding, not due to the wedding itself, but because of the Two Whales. This past August, The Two Whales Diner (which Joyce now owned, after it was left to her in the will of original owner Bud Putnam) had been burned down by a homicidal teenage girl who had been hell-bent on killing Max. Joyce's insurance covered arson, but the guy in charge of checking out the foundation was being a real dick.

Sitting next to her was Kate Bradford (formerly Kate Marsh), children's author, classmate of Max's at Blackwell, and someone whose personal monetary worth exceeded the Gross Domestic Products of most South American countries. She wanted to be one of Max's bridesmaids, but decided against it as at the moment, she was four months pregnant, and had some measure of personal insecurity about standing in front of a crowd in such a state. This was fine with everyone. Sitting next to her was her husband Josh, who, from Chloe's point of view, looked like he'd been taken from a cornfield after Kate drove past in her limo, found the burliest and studliest dude there, and said _"Yup. That one."_

A remarkably slimmed down and surprisingly ungothed Alyssa Anderson was also in attendance. Hayden Jones, the laughing stock of Arcadia Bay who saw the Sasquatch (though the joke was on the town, as there actually was a Sasquatch in Arcadia Bay, a fact to which Victoria Chase could attest) was in the middle of the middle row on the left side. Evan Harris, who hadn't aged a day since his stint at Blackwell, was there with his boyfriend, whose name Chloe did not know.

Zach Riggins was there with his wife, making the same eyes at Juliet up at the front as Brooke Scott, who was also there, was making at Warren. Chloe went through her mental rolodex of her and Max's old friends form the Bay. Stella Hill, who Max had been eager to see, was absent, as was Daniel DaCosta. Chloe considered the latter's absence wholly in the realm of the explicable, however, as flights from Argentina must have been expensive.

One particular article of curiosity was the presence of Victoria Chase's former Blackwell drones, Courtney Wagner and Taylor Christensen. Courtney seemed to have found the weight that Alyssa had lost, though from a distance, she seemed a fair bit happier and more eager to smile than she had been in high school. But if one had to had out a medal for the most unique transformation over the years, then that one would have to go to Taylor. She was, as Victoria no doubt would have called her, _"Runway Fabulous,"_ with her blonde hair in a bob and her black and white ensemble so crisp and expensive looking that Chloe wouldn't have been surprised if it had its own groupies.

Her choice of companion was also notable. Taylor was in the presence of a black woman about her age… or so Chloe thought. She had an ageless, ethereal quality about her. Her hair was short and natural, and her clothes were every last bit the caliber of Taylor's. And if Chloe had to guess, this mystery woman had to be at least six-one.

And being as they were sitting in the front row, eyeing the proceedings as though they were by the runway at the Zac Posen show at Fashion Week, Chloe could see their matching rings.

Chloe put her hand up to her mouth and quietly said _"Ohhhhh shiiiiiiiit…."_

This got a side-eye from Trevor. "What is it?"

"Taylor's into _chiiiiiicks…"_

Trevor looked at Taylor, then back to Chloe. "You sure?"

"Yeah, dude, they're wearing matching rings."

Trevor propped up at this. "Oh… Well… Uh… Good for _them?"_

" _Look_ at them," Chloe said. _"Great_ for them."

The _Bridal March_ stopped for a few seconds. There seemed to be some kind of shuffling near the back of the church, before it started up again.

And in she walked.

Accompanied by her mother Vanessa, Max Caulfield slowly glided down the aisle. She had foregone a veil. The white shirt of her dress was white and loose, coming down to her ankles, and the dress had no straps. Her hair was the stylish version of the pixie cut she'd been rocking since February. She was in makeup, plum lipstick accenting her thin lips. This was the second time Chloe had seen her in makeup, and she wondered if Dana had helped her this time, too.

And as Max took her place across from her, Chloe was torn, to her very core, between the idle pleasure of getting lost in her wife's blue eyes, and the juvenile and altogether inappropriate urge to yell _"FUCKIN' JACKPOT!"_ aloud to a church full of family and friends.

The _Bridal March_ stopped, everyone in the crowd unclenched, and the minister began.

It should be noted that the minister was a tiny man, and very old. He looked, to Chloe, like a sun-bleached prune that could marry people. Indeed, he was so adorably old and pale that she was waiting—just _waiting_ —for one word to come falling out of his mouth:

" _Mawwidge!"_

So intent was Chloe's lookout for this word that she did not hear a single thing that came out of his mouth, until:

"The happy couple have decided to write their own vows," the minister said. "Miss Caulfield, would you like to go first?"

Max swallowed, turned slightly, and looked Chloe in the eye.

"I need to look you in the eye when I say this," Max said, "because public speaking is the scariest thing I can think of."

The crowd laughed at this, but Chloe wondered how in the blue hell talking in front of a crowd beat time travel powers, angry gangsters, torrents of red rain, and massive storms on the scary list. She also wondered how she managed being a photography teacher. That _was_ public speaking.

"I need to look you in the eye," Max said, "when I tell you you're my hero. I know I'm supposed to tell you that I'll love you, honor you, and cherish you, but I've been doing that for years. It's the easiest thing in the world to me. But the thing I can tell you, the thing I can promise you, is that I will leave the light on for you when the world goes dark. I will hold your hand when everything and everyone else burns to the touch. I will never cause you pain, if I can help it. I will laugh with you. I will cry with you. Loneliness is the only sure thing in life, and Chloe, I've known you for so long that I'm not entirely sure about taxes, and I'm even _less_ sure about death."

The crowd laughed at this, but Chloe knew it to be true. Chloe herself had died seven times across three separate timelines knowing Max, and Max herself had died once.

"But I also know," Max said, "that loneliness is temporary, but only if you're lucky. And right now, I'm wearing a wedding dress in front of the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. If that isn't lucky, I don't know what is. Chloe Price, I give you my love, my patience, and my faith."

And Max gave a little nod to say she was done. This minister turned to Chloe. "And now you, Miss Price?"

Chloe had been moved by her wife's vows. She had been a woman whose dark period stretched throughout most of her life, and even now, to this day, declarations of even affection, let alone love, threw her off.

So much so that Chloe Elizabeth Price had completely forgotten the vows she had written.

And they were good ones, too.

 _Goddammit, Max…_

Chloe scratched the back of her head, and the sense of unease must have been radiating from her body, because she could see Max beginning to break into her _"Oh, no"_ face. The one that accompanied Chloe's attempts at improvisation.

"Um…" Chloe said. "It occurs to me, that, uh… I may not entirely suck as a human being."

Polite chuckles from the crowd.

"Which isn't to say I'm perfect. I'll never cop to that, but uh… Knowing me hasn't been easy. Knowing me has been a lot like pulling teeth. And, uh… It's just… It's just the person coming to my mind right now is a girl we both know… named Rose."

Chloe could see Max's expression darken. The Rose in question was a girl named Rose Fichtner, who, in a misplaced haze of vengeance, had tried to kill both Max and Chloe the previous August in ways most violent. After Max and Chloe had taken turns permanently disfiguring her, Rose Fichtner had vanished from their lives without a trace.

"Rose lost her father at an early age, same as I did," Chloe said. "She was in a dark place. And in that darkness, she was surrounded by people who fed it, and turned her into a monster. And the only thing that stopped me from turning out the same way… is being around people who cared about me. Like mom… and Rachel… and you."

Chloe took a deep breath. "Against common sense, good judgment, the universe's will, you saw something in me worth saving. You, uh… You saw more in me than my low point, and you kept at it for so long, for so… so many years of screw-ups and let-downs that I actually… started believing it. More than that, I started seeing it as the truth. So… So I know these vows are supposed to be, like, a grand declaration of your plans on how to treat your wife during the rest of your life, and I think… I think the best things I could do is try to be more like you. That's the best wife I can be. Trying to be more like Max Caulfield. And given the hole I started out in, being a third as good as you is a life's work. But, um… It's the kind of life's work that I want to do. That I _need_ to do, so… That's my vow."

At this, the minister nodded, and said "The rings, please?"

As Jared made his way up to the altar with the rings, Chloe leaned into Max, and asked "Was that okay?"

Max could only smile.

They put the rings on each others' fingers.

"Chloe Elizabeth Price, do you take Max to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

Technically, death hadn't stopped them _yet,_ so she said "I do" all the same.

"Maxine Caulfield, do you take Chloe to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?"

"I do."

"Then I now pronounce you joined in matrimony. You may each kiss the bride."

So they did, much to the delight of those assembled.

The worst kiss that Max and Chloe had ever shared had been on October 7, 2013, though an October 7, 2013 that only the two of them had shared. It was a kiss at the end of the world, right before Max leapt through a photograph of a butterfly to send Chloe to her doom to save Arcadia Bay, though Max opted at the last minute to sacrifice herself, and save both Chloe and the town. It was a kiss so larded with doom and portent that it was less sweet, and more necessary.

But the best kiss? That was a kiss that had happened exactly one year and one day before this wedding in this church. November 8, 2018, after a three year break-up, after all the timelines converged in Chloe's brain, she had gone to Max's hotel room and almost threw herself at her feet. The kiss they shared was like water in the desert, like air on the moon.

This kiss… was somewhere in the middle. And if you had to ask Chloe, she would say that that was the beauty of it.

In front of their friends and family, in a house of a God that at _least_ Kate Bradford believed in, Chloe Price and Max Caulfield did the most natural thing in the world…


	3. Lipstick Vogue

**Chapter 3: Lipstick Vogue**

 _June 6, 2014_

Chloe had her arm around Max's back as they made the short walk from the Prescott Dorm to the Blackwell gym, where the prom was being held. Chloe was helpless to notice that Max's backless dress revealed the massive, starfish-shaped scar on Max's left shoulder blade. The end-result of Nathan Prescott's bullet. Max had said that having people see that scar made her feel more powerful, and given that Max Caulfield was, for most of the time Chloe had known her, wallflower who would break into a sweat if given the opportunity to choose where to eat lunch on a given day, she would need all the power she could marshal to make it through something as socially big as a senior prom.

The first two students that Max and Chloe came upon on this humid June evening were Justin Williams and Trevor Cade. From all outward appearances, they had no intention of going inside, as they sitting on the steps outside the gym in their everyday scrubs.

And they also appeared to be higher than kites being flown in space.

"You two are going together?" Trevor asked.

"Yup," Max said. "You mean you didn't know that?"

"Yeah," Justin asked Trevor. "You didn't know?"

Trevor started giggling like the goober that Chloe thought he was. He was about to say something before Justin shut him down.

"Dude, don't," Justin said.

"What?" Trevor asked. "I didn't say anything."

"But you were gonna. And nothing out of your mouth about this was gonna be anything good."

Justin turned to Max and Chloe. "I'm sorry about him. He's simple."

" _Dude!"_

"You two have a nice night," Justin said. He grabbed Trevor by the sleeve, yanked him up, and said "Come on, simple."

Chloe knew that Justin had had a thing for her, the poor fool. But judging from this little display, she thought that maybe the next girl he had a thing for just might come a head in the whole deal.

Max and Chloe watched them go. She couldn't hear what was said, except for a few select snippets.

" _Biiiiiiitch,"_ Trevor said.

To which Justin replied "Bitch, _what?"_

"Well, that was weird," Max said.

"What's the over-under on things getting weirder?" Chloe asked.

"I dunno how betting works. Think of some odds and just pretend I said it."

Chloe smiled and kissed Max on the forehead. "Ready to go in?

"No," Max said. "But I'll do it anyway."

The first thing to hit them on their entrance to the gym (besides the throbbing noise of the DJ's ill-advised Bring Me the Horizon selection) was the smell. It may have been prom, but it was still inside a gym. The BO, of the male, female, fresh, and stale varieties, hung in the air like a chimp from a tire swing.

The multicolored lights in the rafters shone down upon that most time-honored of traditions: the boys and the girls, in their passes at early twenty-first century finery, on separate sides of the gym, both terrified of being the first ones to dance.

The first ones to see Chloe and Max and to wave them over were Juliet and Dana. Pleasantries were observed.

"I saw Trevor out front," Max said. "He's not in here with you?"

"He said he has anxiety issues," Dana said. "Didn't want to be in front of a crowd."

Max scrunched up her nose. "He didn't want to pay for better clothes, did he?"

Dana sighed. "He pressed his nutsack up to Zach's windshield last week and yelled _'Cadbury Egg!'_ before running off with his pants around his ankles. So, yeah, that's the theory. Anxiety my ass."

Max nodded, it being obvious to Chloe that she didn't want to pursue this avenue of questioning further, and turned to Juliet. "Speaking of Zach, where is he?"

"Who?" Juliet asked.

"Zach."

"Who?"

"That bad, huh?"

Juliet nodded. "So we're here together. We paid for the dresses, so we might as well sit back and make fun of everyone."

Chloe shrugged. "It worked for us."

Juliet and Dana were nice enough to laugh at this. Max didn't instead opting to nudge Chloe's arm. "Chloe, look."

Max pointed beyond Juliet and Dana to the cause of her concern… and saw that it was indeed something to be concerned about.

"If you ladies could excuse us," Chloe said.

"Fine, be that way," Juliet said. But she smiled and nudged Max's shoulder when she did.

Max and Chloe made their way past a couple more people before they arrived near the bleachers, where Kate Marsh stood.

Chloe knew Kate well enough to say Hi to, so it pained her to ear that, back in October, after what went down with Nathan and Jefferson went down, that Kate had been another one of their victims, just like Rachel.

Kate was leaning against the bleachers, apparently having come unaccompanied. Her apparent method of dress for a dance was, to Chloe, what a Kansas soccer mom would wear to a funeral. Black sweater over white shirt, garnished only by her ever-present crucifix.

"Hey, Kate," Max said. "You okay?"

"Yeah," said Kate. "I'm fine. The last time I was at a to-do like this, it… didn't turn out well. But I shouldn't judge them all like that one time."

"Okay," Max said. "If you, like, need anything, we're both right here. We have our phones on us in case you want to leave, and we can walk you back to your room."

"Thanks," Kate said, "but I'm fine. I'm even drinking the unopened bottles of water, just in case… What does YOLO mean?"

Max had to pause, before she said "Huh?"

"YOLO," Kate said. "I heard Courtney Wagner say it, and I have no idea what it means."

"It's the last thing a douchebag says before he gets hit by a car," Chloe said, almost saying _"asshole,"_ before remembering to whom she spoke.

"I'm pretty sure that's not what it means," Kate said, "but I get the feeling that it's closer to the truth than I realize. Is it always like this?"

"Like what?" Max asked.

"The boys on one side and the girls on the other?"

"That's how it starts out," Max said. "Everyone's nervous."

"But they paid for all these nice clothes," Kate said. "Did they honestly get them hoping not to dance in them?"

"I'm not sure they thought that far ahead," said Max.

"That just seems silly," Kate said, crossing her arms.

And off she went, crossing the No Man's Land between the boys and the girls, finding Daniel DaCosta in a suit that was too tight for him, and bringing him to the center (after some poking and prodding). They then began their own pathetic attempts at dancing.

 _That Kate,_ Chloe thought. _She doesn't know the rules, so she doesn't know she's breaking them._

"I have a theory about Kate," Chloe said.

"You do?" Max asked.

Chloe nodded, and cracked her knuckles.

"She's, like, hardcore Christian, right? Doing the abstinence thing, saving herself for marriage? Like, she's not _against_ sex, she just needs her own controlled conditions before she'll feel good about having it."

"Is there judgment here?" Max asked, giving Chloe the stink-eye.

"None at all," Chloe said truthfully. "I'm just saying that making the whole abstinence thing a way of life means she's spent more time thinking about sex while trying not to have it than I have while pulling my back out trying to have it."

"Have you, now?" Max asked with a smirk that Chloe didn't notice.

Chloe nodded. "Kate wants to find someone special and sleep with them. But she's spent so much time thinking about the particulars and the ins-and-outs that when she _does_ find that special guy? And she _does_ get married? And she _does_ close the bedroom door with him inside? Then that dude… won't be able to escape."

Max scrunched up her nose again. "What does that mean?"

"Kate Marsh," Chloe said, "is gonna be freaky as _fuuuuuuuuuck…"_

Max's shoulders slumped, and she rolled her eyes. "Oh, my _God,_ Chloe."

"Don't tell me you haven't thought about the ramifications of Kate Marsh finally having sex."

" _No._ I _haven't._ Not at _all."_

"What better way to reassert her agency than putting the man she loves in a gimp mask?" Chloe asked. "I swear, when Kate gets married, her bedroom is gonna have more chains and screaming than a _Hellraiser_ movie."

Max sighed. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

" _What?"_ Chloe asked. "They'll already be married. _Now_ who's being judgmental?"

* * *

 _November 9, 2019_

The service wrapped up, the photos were taken, and now it was time for the reception, which was being held in the cafeteria of a private elementary school halfway across Seattle. Price trumped proximity, and thus, it had to be so.

In lieu of a limo, Chloe and Max rode to Michael Frobisher Elementary in The Taxi, which was a vintage taxi cab that Chloe had had refurbished earlier that year. And though Max had been slow to warm to The Taxi, she had now gotten to the point that she insisted it be what they slapped the _Just Married_ paint on.

They were resting at a stop light when Max started laughing.

"What is it?" Chloe asked.

"Do you know who we should send copies of the wedding photos to?"

"Who?"

Max giggled a little bit more before she said "Denise Leonard."

Chloe smiled. Denise Leonard had been the woman who had hired Chloe for her first ever detective job. In a twist of circumstance, it was Chloe's detective work that sent Denise to prison on a mountain of drug, kidnapping, conspiracy, and hacking charges. Denise was an avid admirer of Max Caulfield, and thought there could be no greater memento of her fandom than sleeping with Max's (at the time) ex-girlfriend. It never happened, though it wasn't due to Denise's lack of trying.

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Chloe asked.

"She hit on you right in front of me."

"We weren't together at the time."

" _Manners,"_ Max said. It's about _manners…"_

Ten minutes later, the two brides had arrived at Michael Frobisher Elementary. The side doors to the kitchen section of the cafeteria were open, and Max and Chloe made their way through into the cafeteria, which was a great deal more spacious than it had any right to be.

The lights were up, and Kyle the DJ was setting us his system in the back. The caterers were assembling their wares and the guy behind the open bar was getting his clear plastic cups and glasses out of their containers.

The only guests on the premises, however, were Joyce, who was talking with Kate and her husband Josh.

Joyce hugged her daughter and her daughter-in-law once they came up.

"Hey, Kate," Max said.

Kate went in on her hugs as well. "Hey, guys. The service was lovely. I'm so happy for both of you."

Chloe saw through that. "Yeah, I don't know how to compliment a wedding either. Everyone remembers the reception, though."

"It might be fun for you, maybe," Kate said as she held her belly. "I'm four months along."

"I didn't know you drank," Max said. "Actually, I can't even imagine you drinking."

Kate blushed and rolled her eyes. "I have a little every now and again. I'm not dead, or anything."

Max smiled. "I have to thank you again, for… y'know…"

"Paying for a wedding on three months notice?" Kate asked. "Not a problem. And I'm blessed enough in the money department to actually mean that. I remember what you did for me and my hometown."

Kate turned to Chloe. "And you," she said. "I left Arcadia Bay and it was swirling down the drain with a bunch of corrupt cops. I turn back around and you, of all people, cleaned it up."

Chloe nodded. The fallout of Denise Leonard's arrest included all of the dirty cops on her payroll, as well as those on the payroll of a gangster (now deceased) named Michael Dixon, who called himself The Bull. All who served in the Arcadia Bay Police Department nowadays were clean as a whistle, or so Chloe hoped.

"Of all the things I thought you'd make of yourself," Kate said, _"'Detective'_ wasn't that high on the list."

Chloe knew that Kate was just being honest, and for what it was worth, she agreed with her. "It was hard work. But, uh…"

She looked at Max. "But it paid off."

"Awwwwww," Kate said, before turning to her husband. "Care to accompany a lady on her quest for bottled water?"

Josh suddenly came alive, as though his wife had flipped his on switch. He smiled, and followed Kate on her way to the bar… a little too closely.

 _I knew it…_

Max put her head on Chloe's shoulder and asked "What do you think?"

Chloe grinned. "I think if Josh fucks up and calls Kate _'Mommy,'_ you owe me five bucks."

Joyce could only smile uncomprehendingly at this, as she had no idea what any of this was about at all.


	4. (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love & Un

**Chapter 4: (What's So Funny 'Bout) Peace, Love & Understanding?**

 _June 6, 2014_

In complete defeat of the function of a prom, Max and Chloe stayed near the bleachers, aiding and abetting Juliet and Dana's pity party.

"Are we ever gonna dance?" Chloe asked.

"Not yet," Max said. "When you get shot and help put a kid no one liked in a mental hospital, you're everybody's friend. I don't want everyone stopping and staring when they notice us… And I've seen you dance."

Chloe put on an exaggerated frown. "I've seen _you_ dance."

At which point Chloe put out her hands and swayed back and forth like a kindergartner. Max laughed and flicked Chloe's nose.

As the prom DJ's odd musical taste continued to unfold with the selection of Elvis Costello's _(I Don't Want to Go to) Chelsea_ in the year of Kate Marsh's Lord 2014 _,_ so came the fashionably late entrance of one Victoria Chase, with boyfriend Warren Graham on her arm.

With the committal of Nathan Prescott to the Cyrus Haverford Memorial Mental Health Facility upstate, the glue that held together the Vortex Club, the clique that had dominated Blackwell since the late eighties, had permanently fallen apart. This put Victoria in a difficult position. She had maintained her chokehold on Blackwell's social scene through a savvy combination of wealth, structure, and an attitude so corrosive that that it could melt the rust off of a Sherman tank. With the second of that trifecta in complete disarray with the Vortex Club no more, her grip became more tenuous.

Made all the more so by her selection of boyfriend.

It would have scandalized the entire senior class were it not so weird that people had a hard time even comprehending it. That a vicious clotheshorse like Victoria, who ruled through ruthlessness and envy, would pick an almost nondescript science nerd—and not only that, but one who had been rejected by a mortal enemy like Max Caulfield—defied logic to the extent that the rest of the kids at Blackwell would talk about it, if only they could believe it.

They were both dressed to kill, with Warren's tux so sharp that Chloe held no illusions that the kid actually picked it out himself. They strode onto the dance floor, Warren one step behind his girlfriend, and immediately started talking to Kate Marsh.

Victoria had leaked a compromising video of an inebriated Kate making out with random dudes at a Vortex Club party onto YouTube, which was a scummy thing to do, made all the scummier by the fact that the reason Kate was so inebriated in the first place was because Nathan Prescott had drugged her for his and Mark Jefferson's sick photography… whatever the fuck it was, at the bottom of an old renovated nuclear bunker underneath a barn on the outskirts of town. Chloe had to hear this secondhand from Max, but apparently Victoria had enough of a soul to be contrite for this, and she and Kate had begun a weird journey to becoming the best of friends. Kate had even dared both Victoria and Warren to go out on a date, and the results were speaking for themselves.

A sigh from the right of her. She turned and saw Max with a furrowed brow.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," Max said.

"Okay," Chloe said, leaning down to kiss Max on the cheek. "Don't get tetanus. I remember how filthy that bathroom is."

Max walked away, and Chloe turned back to the dance floor. While Warren had apparently been sent to get punch, Victoria… was coming right for her.

She said Hi to Juliet and Dana, Juliet and Dana said Hi back, and Victoria took position on Chloe's left. She sighed with the theatrical air of an Opera diva.

"These things are so depressing," Victoria said.

"I dunno," Chloe said. "I'm here with another girl and the only person who gave a shit was a bro who got shouted down by another bro. I don't like these things either, but this one's agreeing with me."

Victoria just shrugged, and kept staring. Chloe saw her eyes going to the table that held the punchbowl, and Chloe decided to look along with her.

Warren, two solo cups of punch in hand, had been cornered by Brooke Scott. The two of them couldn't hear what was being said, but Chloe pegged Warren's body language as almost scared and eager to get away. Brooke's as desperate and needy. She knew the backstory form Max.

"What is it about him?" Chloe asked.

"About Warren?"

Chloe kept her face deadpan when she said. "About the Michelin Man."

Victoria had the grace to smile. "He's curious."

The jokes Chloe could have made blossomed in her mind instantly, as vast and as thick as the poppy fields in _The Wizard of Oz._ "About what?"

"About _me,"_ Victoria said. "He's curious about me."

Victoria folded her arms and leaned into her. "Guys want to know me, but they don't want to know _about_ me. I'm on the checklist of the things they want to acquire. But Warren? He wants to know why I do the things I do. Why I am the way I am. And this isn't some controlling power play, alright? Warren's Warren. Warren likes to know things. And because I feel the need to tell him, _I_ have to know about myself. Put words to myself, and I've never done that before."

She leaned back. "I do things… I _did_ things, just to do them. They're… they're gut reactions to living life. I know right, and I know wrong, and… I dunno, I just… always felt that what I did existed outside of that. But because I feel the need to explain myself now, it's… It's like there's a light on in the parts of my head that I didn't even know _existed._ I know that the rules apply to me because someone had the fucking gall to ask me _why…_ Does that make sense?"

Chloe just kinda shrugged and said "Kinda…"

Victoria nodded. "Your turn. What do you see in her?"

Chloe smiled. "You really have a beef with her, don't you?"

"I have the whole cow with Max."

"Fine," Chloe said. "Just keep it south of physical, so I don't have to kick your ass up and down the street."

"You still haven't answered my question," Victoria said. "It's like the whole world revolves around her, y'know? The choices she makes have kinda been dictating all of our lives. Have you noticed that?"

"Not really."

"So I'm asking you, as a sentient being who I assume is in control of her life choices… What do you see in Max Caulfield?"

Chloe put her hands in the pockets of her suit jacket, trying to assess the mottled haze of feelings she had in her head for another human being before she said:

"She doesn't give up."

Chloe let that hang in the air as Victoria waited for something else to follow that.

"That's it?" Victoria asked.

"Isn't that _enough?_ I don't think she'll even give up on _you."_

Victoria rolled her eyes.

"No," I'm serious," Chloe said. "She's always gonna try and be your friend, even though you're, like, hella mean to her."

Victoria scoffed. "Well, tell your little girlfriend that life is full of disappointment."

* * *

 _November 9, 2019_

Night fell on Seattle as the Caulfield-Price reception kicked into full swing.

Chloe's uncle had to skip the reception entirely to get his son to bed, but those two absences were the only ones from the wedding. Everyone else showed.

Brooke Scott got a slow dance in with Hayden Jones without spilling a drop of her drink, Kate and Josh Bradford sat in two metal folding chairs on the sidelines of the dance floor, the latter with the arm around the former's shoulder, and Zach and Juliet caught up on old times.

Oh, and Taylor's rather impressive wife's name was Kira.

They held forth, at the head of an impromptu circle of people that included the two brides, Joyce, Warren, Courtney, Dana, and Trevor.

Taylor and Kira took turns regaling the crowd with stories of how they met, all the traveling they'd done, Taylor's career as a fashion journalist and Kira's career as a model. And as they went on, Chloe finally figured out what it was that was just too perfect, about Taylor.

She and Courtney had been Victoria's drones throughout their year at Blackwell, always following her and cowering in fear. And while in the interim, Courtney had seemingly thrown up her hands, decided to live her own life by substitute teaching, Taylor had followed the path of Victoria, or at least a Victoria-adjacent one down to its extreme.

Taylor had grown into the apotheosis of the eighteen-year-old Victoria Chase. She had become the former Victoria's wildest dream of herself. She had become the ur-Victoria.

And the fact that she'd done it without turning into a rampaging asshole impressed Chloe all the more.

Kira turned to Taylor and said "I'm going to go outside for a cigarette."

"Have fun, dear."

Max turned to Chloe. "You can go with."

Chloe blinked a couple of times. "But I quit smoking."

"That was your idea," Max said. "Not mine. You only get married once."

"But… this is the second time we've been married, though."

Max sighed. "There's this thing about gift horses that someone should have told you by now."

Chloe smiled. Kira and Chloe kissed Taylor and Max on their cheeks and made their way to the side entrance of the kitchen as the music blared.

Once outside, Kira held a cigarette out to Chloe.

"No thanks," Chloe said. "I quit."

"Oh," Kira said, not lighting up and, from all outward appearances, not entirely sure what to do.

"No one said I can't be around for the smell," Chloe said. "You go right on ahead."

Kira smiled, produced a gold-plated Zippo from her purse, and lit up.

"What do you do?" Kira asked.

"I'm a detective," Chloe said.

Kira smiled wide and said "Wow. Do you carry a gun?"

"No," Chloe said. "I mean I've had the gun in my hand a couple of times, fired a couple of shots, but they both went wide. On purpose, though. And I didn't have my glasses on, so I couldn't have hit anyone even if I tried."

"You put your life in danger often, then?"

"Danger usually finds me," Chloe said. "Or it did. Things have been slow these past few months."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Kira asked.

"It's…"

Chloe was cut off by the sound of her phone ringing. She took it out of her pants, saw the name on the screen, and raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," Chloe said, "I have to take this."

"Go right ahead," Kira said. "Time waits for no one."

"Get a few drinks in me, and I'll tell you how funny that is," Chloe said, before she walked a few paces out of earshot and answered the phone.

"Victoria?"

"Heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyy," said the voice on the other line.

And the mental state of the woman on the other line became crystal clear.

"You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Don't judge," Victoria said.

"Why do I get the feeling you're alone at home?"

"Because," Victoria said, "you know I'm responsible. If I'm at home, I don't have to drive anywhere."

"Fair enough," Chloe said. "What's up? Why are you calling me? We don't talk."

"I can talk to whomever I damn well please," Victoria said, and Chloe wondered if her use of the word "whomever" was a correct one.

"I just got a call from Courtney," Victoria said, "saying that Taylor married another woman?"

"Yeah," Chloe said. "She's nice. And tall. Taller than me, even, and I'm like…"

"If you see her," Victoria said, "tell her that I'm happy she's happy."

"Why don't you call her yourself?"

Victoria made a pouty noise. "I don't have her number."

"Think that might be by design?"

"That's what I want to talk to you about."

"Is it?" Chloe asked.

"Kinda… I was just sitting here… Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Chloe said.

"I may have a feud going with Max, but I don't with you. You found Nathan."

Chloe could tell that this was going to lead nowhere good, as Chloe had a feeling that Victoria Chase may have been the kind of woman who liked to cry when she was drunk. "So you were just sitting there..."

"Right, I was just sitting here… And… I remember that when we're young… Young _er,_ I mean, we're not, like, decrepit or anything."

"Right."

"When we're _younger,"_ Victoria said, "we do a lot of things to make sure we're happy later. We're planning, making sure that one day, we're content. And in some cases, that includes doing a lot of stuff we're not proud of. I don't need to tell you…"

"And I don't need to tell _you."_

"Right," Victoria said. "But… y'know… I've gotten older, and I find that I'm not working as hard, and… I'm wondering w—how that is. So I'm _sitting_ here…"

"You're sitting there…"

"…and I figured it out. Are you ready for this?"

"I better be," Chloe said.

"The reason I'm not working on being happy later as hard as I used to… is because I'm happy _now."_

Chloe let that sink in before she said "Congrats."

"Is this just me?" Victoria asked. "Or… Have you felt that way?"

Chloe was about to drop some off-the-cuff platitude to placate the drunk woman on the other end of the phone, when she stopped herself.

"This was exactly how she'd been feeling recently. She just hadn't been able to put her finger on it.

It had been a year since Chloe had gotten back together with Max and became a detective, but the three years before that were spent running errands and doing favors for the Arcadia Bay underworld that usually involved drugs.

The road to legitimacy had required a hell of a lot more work than her errand running business, but it seemed a great deal easier, for some strange reason that she could never put words to.

And it was happiness. It had to be. Because this was the first time she'd ever felt it since she was a kid, and her dad was still alive. Its absence had made it taste different, but it was there all the same.

The thing that people busted their asses for all their lives, Chloe now had in spades, and it happened so gradually that she didn't even notice it.

"Well?" Victoria asked over the phone. "Have you been feeling that way?"

Chloe couldn't say anything.


	5. Indoor Fireworks

**Chapter 5: Indoor Fireworks**

 _June 6, 2014_

Victoria had beaten feet by the time Max exited the bathroom, and the two women had managed the structurally difficult yet socially effortless task of actively avoiding each others' orbit while not seeming to be rushed. They even managed to do this while Max talked to Warren, which meant that Victoria had to leave her boyfriend for parts unknown, and Chloe reckoned that ceding even this small level of supremacy would be a blow to her ego that she would take to the grave.

Juliet and Dana had emerged from their integument of defeat and had begun to look for dudes to dance with while trying their damnedest not to look desperate. Kate was roaming from person to person, saying Hi to people, and they all smiled and tried to be nice without actually touching her. Hayden Jones was visibly hammered, and the rest of the Blackwell Bigfoots assembled clustered around him, trying to find out where the booze actually was.

And Chloe decided to take a smoke break.

There were no ashtrays near the entrance to the gym, and teachers were patrolling, trying to bust smokers, so Chloe took the show to the parking lot.

Standing near the tail gate of The Beast, she liberated her pack of Parliament Lights and her cheap orange lighter from her jacket pocket, and lit up.

As she exhaled, her mixture of breath and smoke obscuring a half moon, there was a great unease in the heart of Chloe Price.

She felt as though she was caught in an ineffable weightlessness, as though her hand could move nothing it touched. It was though the bonds that held her to the earth faltered and phase through her skin leaving her adrift.

It was a feeling that Chloe could only describe to herself as _"icky."_ Like plunging her hand into a bowl of cold macaroni and cheese.

The sound of footsteps on the pavement drew her eye to a little girl coming down the row of cars. She was wearing an Oregon Ducks jersey, and though Chloe had to squint to be sure, she could have sworn the little girl was Native American.

"Nice night," the little girl said.

Chloe just grunted, and the little girl kept walking past… until she stopped and turned around to face Chloe again.

"Say," the little girl said. "You know what they should start calling you?"

"What?" Chloe asked.

The little Native American girl smiled, and said _"A Bluenette!"_

Chloe groaned. "Y'know, my policy on murdering little kids is a whole lot more fluid than it was a second ago."

The little girl sighed. "Fine, be that way," she said, and walked into the darkness, toward the Prescott Dorm.

A moment later, and Chloe had gotten to the filter of her cigarette. She flicked the butt to the cement and walked away without stepping on it to grind it out.

Back to the dimness, back to the noise, back to the smell of the prom.

And back to Max, who had taken her spot by the bleachers where they had started the evening. Max waved Chloe over.

"What is it?" Chloe asked.

Max smiled and said "Wait for it…"

The Fitz & the Tantrums song that had been playing came to its conclusion. There was a brief lull and random screaming and applause.

Then what sounded like organs started to come through the sound system, and max damn near swooned.

"I requested this song myself," Max said. "Dance with me."

"Um…"

Whatever joke or objection Chloe had to dancing at that moment were caught stillborn in her throat as Max took her hand and looked her in the eye.

"Dance… with… me."

And without a word, Max led Chloe to the dance floor.

As what Chloe would later learn was Sharon Van Etten's _Tarifa_ played over the speakers, Max and Chloe put their arms around each others' waists, swaying back and forth, their bodies avoiding the other students, their feet avoiding stepping on each others' which, in hindsight, would be lauded by the pair as a minor miracle.

The feeling of… weightlessness got further and further into Chloe's brain, dulling the colors around her, blunting the smells, making beads of sweat appear on her forehead, taking her out of the moment.

Yet this foul reverie broke in an instant when Chloe heard Max's breath catch in her throat. The world became the world again.

"What is it?" Chloe asked.

Max took her head away from Chloe's collar bone and blinked repeatedly to keep tears from falling.

"You have _no idea_ what it took me to get here," Max said.

* * *

 _November 9, 2019_

Chloe and Kira made their way back into the cafeteria, and the first sight that greeted them was Brooke Scott, drink still in hand, tipsy as tipsy could be, leaning on the chest of Chloe's old weed buddy Dalton Folger, whom Chloe had invited.

Normally, Chloe's hackles would have risen at the sight of a drunk woman in the arms of a sober man, but she trusted Dalton, as Dalton knew how hellish she could make his existence if something bad happened to Brooke.

Plus, whatever sob story Brooke was selling, Dalton was buying hook, line, and sinker.

"I just… I just feel like I have unfinished business with him, but he married Satan herself," Brooke said.

"If he can't see how special you are," Dalton said, "he doesn't deserve you."

"I like you," Brooke said. "I like your youness."

Dalton looked over Brooke's head, spotted Warren a few feet away talking to Joyce, and yelled "Hey!"

Warren turned to Dalton, shocked, whereupon Dalton put two fingers up to his eyes, and then pointed them at Warren, telling him without telling him that _I'm watching you!_

Warren didn't appear to know what this meant. Dalton looked back down at Brooke and asked "Who the fuck is Eunice?"

"Know the backstory on this one?" Kira asked.

Chloe grinned, and said "Just high school bullshit that got stale."

They made their way back to the seats where Max and Taylor were located. They stood as one and smiled at their wives.

"You didn't tell me you knew such fascinating people," Kira said. "A _detective,_ this one."

"My Kira cannot live by fashionistas alone," Taylor said. "People the editors of Italian _Vogue_ are dying to get on the phone simply _bore_ her."

"Yeah," Max said, looking completely lost. "That's… yeah. Chloe!"

"What?" Chloe asked, and her answer came in the form of Max taking her by the hand and dragging her to the edge of the dance floor.

The surest bullet in the gun of every wedding DJ is _Hey Ya!_ by Outkast, absolutely, positively guaranteed to get people of all ages out on the floor to make great tits of themselves shaking it like a Polaroid picture. Chloe noticed with some level cringiness that Joyce was among their number.

"Wait for it…" Max said.

 _Hey Ya!_ ended…

…and the organs started.

Chloe smiled. _"Tarifa,"_ she said.

"Yup," said Max. "Prom night."

"It was a good night."

"Shall we?"

The mass of people on the floor parted, and took their seats. It is formality for the slow dance between the two people getting married to be announced, but the tenor of both the mood and the song told everyone what they needed to know.

And so, Max and Chloe danced.

"Have you actually listened to the lyrics of this song?" Chloe asked.

"Why spoil the fun?"

"I'm just saying," Chloe said, "it could be a bad omen. These lyrics are kinda fucked up."

Max laughed at this. "We both made it through The Myth of the Traveler. _Three times._ We can handle acoustic indie self-pity in one piece."

"True," Chloe said, smiling.

They danced in silence for a few moments. It was a silence Max decided to break.

"When I was in high school," Max said, "I wanted to be a photographer, but, like…"

"Like what?" Chloe asked.

"Like… no one ever gets to be what they want. I was studying to be a photographer, but I was preparing to be a check-out girl. Just manning a register at Walgreen's in the dead of night, ringing up purchases for meth-heads and freaks. Because that's how the story ends in The Real World: our best and our brightest doing price checks on Vagisil at three AM."

Max opened her mouth to say something, closed it, and then apparently decided it was a better idea to let it out than to keep it in.

"I got everything I wanted," Max said. "I'm a rich woman with a dream job and a hot wife."

"Try to sound more distressed about that," Chloe said.

"I know I shouldn't let this get to me," Max said, "but if I gained everything, I can lose it just as fast, and…"

"Max," Chloe said. "Look at me."

Max did so.

"Loss is… it's inevitable," Chloe said. "But it's not infinite. Tilt your head a little, squint a bit, and a lot of the time? A lot of the time what people call loss is just… y'know… growth and evolution. Just because we change doesn't mean we get worse. It doesn't mean we lose. Stakes raise, and lower, and at the end, it's just… us."

Max blinked.

"It took a lot for me to get here," Chloe said. "It rook so much it almost killed me. It _did_ kill me, actually, quite a few times. But if I got everything I wanted at the start, I would have lost out. If you asked me if I'd do anything differently, guess what my answer would be. If it played out just a little bit different, I wouldn't be here."

Max smiled dreamily, and said "My actions had consequences."

"Mine, too," Chloe said. "Thank God."

Max smiled wider. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

They stared into each others' blue eyes, and danced until the song ended. They kissed as the silence fell.

* * *

 _June 6, 2014_

The prom came to a close at eleven, to boos from the students and insistences from Principal Grant and the rest of the chaperones to vacate the premises.

Some of the students milled about the front of the gym, making plans for Post Prom, and Chloe managed to hear Warren and Victoria arguing with each other.

"There's a thing at the bowling alley, and I want to put in an appearance," Victoria said. "And fuck this town for making me say that."

"Which bowling alley?" Warren asked. "We have two of them."

"The one on _Lynskey,"_ Victoria said. "The... the _Astro_ -Bowl."

"I could have driven us, y'know," Warren said.

Victoria sighed. "Warren, I love you, but I'm not being seen in that piece of shit you drive."

"That's fair… Wait, _what?"_

Chloe and Max had once again found themselves in Kate's orbit, and she was once again making nice with everyone, in a stark contrast to the beginning of the year when they were laughing at her behind her back about a lurid internet video.

"Are you doing the bowling alley thing with everyone else?" Kate asked.

Max looked at Chloe, then back at Kate. "I think we're going to stay in," she said. "Watch a movie."

"Okay," Kate said. "Have fun."

The walk back to the Prescott Dorm was the same as it was from the other direction. It was so eerily quiet that Chloe could hear the buzzing of the overhead fluorescents as they made their way back to Room 219, which was where Max would be staying for the scant couple of days until she went back to Seattle.

Chloe would be going with her. It was a prospect so immediate in time, yet so remote in plausibility that she hadn't even packed yet.

Max opened the door, and stepped inside. Chloe stepped in behind her and immediately turned around to turn on the light…

…only for Max's hand to cover her own.

"Leave the light off," Max said softly. "Close the door."

So Chloe did. She turned around.

The only light in the room came from the streetlight outside the dorm room, leaving Max in silhouette. Chloe watched as Max reached behind her back, unzipping her dress, and letting it fall to the floor like a second skin. She loosed her ponytail, and took off her bra and her underwear, leaving her silhouette nude.

And that silhouette walked toward Chloe, put her hands on her cheek and kissed her on the lips. Max's hands slid south, unbuttoning the buttons on her shirt, sliding it off along with her jacket. As Chloe kicked off her shoes, Max's shadowy hands undid her belt buckle, her button, her zipper, and finally slid both pants and boxers down Chloe's narrow hips.

Max's silhouette stood back as Chloe removed her underwear, pants and socks from her ankles until she too was as naked as Max, save for the bullet necklace. And they beheld each other.

The streetlight that rendered Max in shadow cast a merciless glow upon Chloe's naked body. She looked down upon herself and saw nothing but flaws, nothing but pastiness and straight lines, and she crossed her arms over her chest instinctively, the confidence she'd shown with women and even her ill-advised forays with men faltered and failed.

And as though she sensed that insecurity, Max's silhouette reached out to her, radiating warmth. Chloe took that hand as Max guided them both to the bed.

Max's legs wrapped around Chloe's back, and as they kissed, Max took Chloe's left hand and placed it between her breasts, letting it go farther south.

Chloe's whole consciousness was on fire.

 _Oh, God…_

 _This is the first time she's done this._

 _Oh, God…_

 _She'll remember this for the rest of her life._

 _Oh, God…_

 _Do I even want to be remembered at all?_

Chloe's hand stopped moving. Max stopped breathing.

"I just want you to be sure," Chloe said.

Chloe sensed Max's smile. And as she kissed her, Max guided Chloe's hand down further.

* * *

 _November 9, 2019_

The question of the wedding night was an odd one, as though they lived in Seattle when they weren't in Arcadia Bay for Max's teaching job, Max insisted that they stay at a hotel for the night.

" _I am not having my wedding night in sheets that I have to wash myself,"_ she had said.

The matter of the honeymoon was also up in the air, as they'd have to postpone it until June to coincide with the end of Max's first (and last) year of teaching photography at Blackwell. And it was this particular matter that they discussed once they got back to their room at the Ramada.

"Why Paris?" Chloe asked as she took off her jacket in the bedroom. Max was in the bathroom, washing her makeup off.

"Because Paris is romantic," Max said from inside the bathroom as the water ran.

"It's everyone else's idea of romantic," Chloe said. "There will be a line, like, fuckin' everywhere. I don't want to spend my honeymoon— _our_ honeymoon—waiting in line more than we do anything else… What about Berlin?"

"What _about_ Berlin?" Max asked. "You wanna go to Berlin?"

"No one goes to Berlin."

"But do you want to go to Berlin, though?"

Chloe smiled. "You _know_ where I wanna go."

The sigh Max heaved could be heard from space, let alone from inside the bathroom.

"Chloe, we are _not_ going to Amsterdam."

"Why not?"

"It's our _honeymoon,"_ Max said. "Don't you want to, I dunno, _remember_ it?"

"Alright, fine."

Chloe could hear the faucet turn off, and the bathroom door creak open.

Max stood in the doorway with her face freshly scrubbed. She was out of her dress. She had white stockings up to her thighs, white silk underwear and matching bodice.

"What in the Goddamn…"

"Thank you," Max said as she walked past Chloe and lay down on the bed, face up, eyes expectant.

Chloe moved in, but Max stopped her by gently placing her foot on Chloe's chest.

Max looked at her stockings, then at Chloe, and said "Take 'em off."

Chloe smiled, and went to do so, but then stopped herself.

"Wait, did you rent all this, or…"

The look of shock on Max's face bordered on the incredulous. "I _bought_ it, you _jackass!"_

"Oh," Chloe said, "Okay." Then she took off Max's stockings with her teeth.

Max started giggling. "Never mind who rents wedding dresses, who the hell rents underwear?"

"I don't know how all this works!"

"You would, if you stuck around for the planning."

Chloe had a retort for this. It was witty and charming. But she noticed something that stopped her.

"Awwww," Chloe said. "You painted your toenails plum."

Max smiled.

"Of all the adorable things I've seen you do," Chloe said, "this is… like… top three."

"What were the other two?" Max asked.

"Well, in the other timeline, that night Kate tried to jump off the roof? I scared you on your way to Blackwell and you let out this little squeak. Yeah. That was… yeah."

"And the other one?"

Chloe's honest answer was _"THE ONE TIME YOU FARTED REAL LOUD!"_ Common sense decreed, however, that she wouldn't actually share that.

"I'll tell you later," Chloe said.

Chloe moved in yet again, only to be stopped a second time by Max's foot on her chest.

"Wanna know why I insisted on the real bow tie instead of the clip-on?" Max asked.

Without waiting for an answer, Max's foot angled up to Chloe's neckline to take the tie off.

She was not immediately successful.

" _Gnah!"_ Chloe yelled as Max's big toe found its way inside her left nostril.

"Oops! Sorry!"

But eventually she got there, looping her big tow inside the bow and pulling it free with as much as magician-like flourish as Max Caulfield could muster with her right foot.

"Feel good?" Chloe asked.

"Feel _great,"_ Max said. "Now let's see if I can do the shirt…"

Max's foot battled with one of the middle buttons of Chloe's tuxedo shirt for a moment before it popped off.

"There's one!" said Max.

"Before you go any further, though… I rented this tux."

Max sighed.

"Goddammit…"


	6. Black Sails in the Sunset

**Chapter 6: Black Sails in the Sunset**

 _June 7, 2014_

The summer sun filtered in through the blinds of Max's dorm room, rousing Chloe from her sleep. It took her a few seconds to remember where she was, initially almost terrified that shoe woke up somewhere other than her bed, but as her vision focused, the good memories of last night returned.

She turned over on her side to look at her girlfriend.

Though Max's lipstick may have been no-smear, the rest of her makeup was not. Her pillow case was smeared with foundation and eyeliner. And if Chloe listened carefully, she could hear light snoring.

This peace, and the time passed, allowed Chloe to put a name to some of her ghosts.

She had been plagued the night before by a sense of weightlessness and a feeling of unease, and in this idyll: naked under the sheets with her girlfriend, she knew what was wrong.

 _Nothing_ was wrong.

Chloe Price was a creature of conflict, and she had been for as long as the laughably short memory of an angry teenage girl served. People died. People grew worse. People walked away. Even the girl she lay next to had done that last one. And all that was left behind was Chloe, to pick up the pieces of herself that others had broken and scattered.

She knew—maybe not remembered, but _knew_ —that there had been a time when Chloe smiled a lot, naturally, without telling herself that she should because she was in situations that warranted smiling. That whole happiness thing had been around, only to leave, stealing away one day with no courtesy or warning.

And it was back again. Back again through this girl. Waiting for her like a bright curtain to be stepped through, but time and life cursed her with awareness of herself, and she found herself wanting. Inferior. Fumbling upon the ground upon which others glided. To step through would be masquerade. It would be sham. It would be dishonest to bring her misery to a place where happiness was no mere myth.

But there was this moment, looking at the sleeping Max. There was now. There was no one to judge Chloe, to see the falseness of her, not even herself.

She sought to protect this moment. To horde it like a dragon did a pile of gold, against the storm of herself. Against the world that sought to take from her, and dirty everything it could not. This… _This_ could be the thing she clung to when the woe came.

And the woe _always_ came.

It was a minute before Max woke. A minute that Chloe, in hindsight, could have made a century of. Max Caulfield stirred, wiped her eyes, turned over, looked at Chloe.

"Max."

"Hey, Chloe."

The makeup Max had worn last night was smeared upon her face. And she had sleep-creases on her cheek from the pillow.

Max grabbed Chloe's shoulder and brought herself closer, pressing the two against each other, luxuriating in each others' warmth.

"It's quiet on this floor," Max said, before she kissed Chloe on the cheek.

"It is," Chloe said. "People have started leaving, right? Going back home?"

"Mmm-hmm,"

Chloe put her hand on Max's cheek. "Then that means my Walk of Shame back to The Beast will be a whole lot less shameful."

"Walk of Shame?"

"Yeah," Chloe said. "Never thought I'd get one of those."

Max stretched and yawned, before just simply looking at Chloe for a moment.

"It isn't a Walk of Shame if I go with you."

Chloe smiled. "You're sweet."

"And hungry," Max said. "Don't forget hungry."

* * *

 _November 10, 2019_

It had started snowing sometime in the night, making the morning brighter than it had any reason to be.

Chloe's eyes fluttered open. She wiped a lock of blonde hair out of her eyes, and reached over to the nightstand for her glasses. She put them on and turned over.

Max Caulfield, in a bed that could facilitate her (as the queen-sized bed in this suite was), was not the most graceful of sleepers. She was splayed out on her side, legs and arms at similar odd angles. Her back was to Chloe, and the covers had fallen halfway down the crack of her ass.

Time was a funny thing. And fragile.

If Chloe had to put a beginning-point on what led her here, it would have to be the pathetic Lenny Diehl.

Lenny Diehl work at Leonard International. Unbeknownst to Chloe, Lenny had been dealing with a gambling problem most of his life, and it had come to a bizarre head the night he bet his late father's watch on a hand against Dalton Folger… and lost.

So distraught was Lenny at this, that he asked around for someone, _anyone,_ to convince Dalton to give the watch back. His inquiries led him to Chloe Price, who both knew and did favors for everyone.

Lenny went to Chloe, Chloe went to Dalton, and Dalton said he'd give the watch back in exchange for Chloe checking up on his weed hook-up Justin Williams, who Dalton hadn't seen in a while. Chloe went to Justin's house, found him dead, and the corrupt ABPD tried to pin the murder on her.

And…

And…

And…

And everything. The fact of the matter, as Chloe saw it, was that if Lenny Diehl had known better than to bet a family heirloom in a poker game, Chloe Price would not be married right now. She wouldn't have her own business.

Time was a funny thing. And fragile.

That job was her misery's last hurrah. From the ages of fourteen to twenty-four, Chloe Price wore self-hatred and resentment on her sleeve, and even now, a year after solving Justin's murder, not having a raging abandonment complex seemed almost a weird fit for her.

That resentment was wielded not only as a form of identity, but as a talisman to, if not make her problems go away, then at least minimize their effect on her psyche.

 _Of course something bad happened. I'm the person bad things happen to._

Looking at her wife now, Chloe remember the morning after Max's senior prom, looking at the sleeping Max the way she did now, trying to etch the memory into her mind as something she could cling to when the worst inevitably dropped out of the sky. _I was here, and in this moment, nothing hurt me._

She knew problems were coming then, and she knew problems were coming now. The difference was that then she thought those problems were aiming for her. Now? Now she knew that problems came for everyone.

There would be disagreements with Max during the remainder of their lives. Chloe's cases would be dangerous. Critics still wouldn't like Max's work. There would be money problems, boredom problems, disagreements, arguments, full-blown fights, and…

…and a comet could plummet from the dark reaches of space. The Venusians could invade. The Mole People could rise from their lair in the earth's mantle and enslave humanity. Shit happens. But Chloe wouldn't be alone when it went down.

What a difference a year made.

What a difference six years made.

And an ancient prophecy.

And multiple timelines.

Time was a funny thing.

And fragile.

Chloe felt a wistful twinge in the place where people felt wistful twinges. She had a big wedding yesterday, and a big wedding night, and she felt as though she hadn't taken the time to painstakingly commit this to memory. That she hadn't captured the sounds and the smells, the sights and the tastes, so she could use it to buoy her in the storm.

But that twinge passed, and a warmth replaced it. This was hers if she wanted it, and the enormity of that fact brought a smile to her face.

She was in a hotel room next to her wife. She had a job that she loved and paid well. She had a honeymoon coming up.

What blew Chloe away wasn't that this was strange.

No, what blew Chloe away was that this was now her version of _normal._ This wasn't the first time that Chloe woke up next to Max with the world in its low pleasures and high challenges in front of them and it settled on her in waves that this would not be the last, either.

And it could only get better. Not only in the abstract sense of time, but even in the immediate short term.

Because it was Saturday. And it was snowing out.

 _Room service_ could be in her future.

Chloe hadn't had room service before, let alone room service with her wife. She'd heard of other people having it, and by God, Chloe Elizabeth Price thought her time had come.

 _Fuck yes…_

* * *

 _ **THE END**_


End file.
